I hate firedrills. Sure, I see their purpose but I hate them. Mostly because I'm usually in the middle of something important at work and I want to finish it. The fire alarm that sounded in my office early on Monday morning wasn't interrupting anything more than a quick game of solitaire before tackling my giant stack of emails that had built up over the holidays. So, I grabbed my coat and headed down the stairwell with my coworkers (those that had come in early like me), taking it slow and steady so as to not aggravate my chest problems. I made it down all 22 flights of stairs (yes 22!) without stopping and my chest felt fine. My legs were wobbly but that's to be expected. I then proceeded to the muster point, again at a turtle's pace. A few minutes of waiting patiently and then we headed back in. All in all, the process from start to finish was maybe 30 minutes.
By the time I reached my desk, the inside of my chest was in open inflammatory revolt.
I'm not going to lie; it hit fast and it hit hard. I hadn't had this kind of pressure in my chest since back in September/October when this whole thing first began. I lasted the morning at work before having to go home and lie down for the rest of the afternoon. The anti-inflammatories barely made a dent. When I woke up this morning, I felt relatively well but as soon as I started moving around again, it made its presence known once more. The only saving grace was that it was better than yesterday.
My CT Scan appointment can't come soon enough. Part of me is hoping they find something so at least then they'll know what's wrong with me or how to go about treating me properly. Until then, we continue on as normal - avoiding excessive physical activity and all the doctors shrugging their shoulders. Le sigh.
I'll try to be a bit more positive for future posts. I'm just getting frustrated.